


Day & Night

by xxxgalaxystarsxxx (AverageFangirl220)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, M/M, Modern Assassins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AverageFangirl220/pseuds/xxxgalaxystarsxxx
Summary: When Peter Parker took on the job of being an assassin, he never realized how hard it would come back to hit him in life. By the time he’s meant to be giving it up, he stays in a little longer. What they don’t tell you is assassination is like a drug; you can hate it all you want but it will keep pulling you in. And when you have someone to compete with in the field of assassinating, who is he to just up and leave?Wade Wilson is a mystery. Peter’s best friend and the only boy that has his attention, but a mystery nonetheless. He’s like an enigma with all his secrets. What Peter doesn’t know is that Wade himself is the very person he has to go up against in every assassination job he’s in. They’re always on opposite sides of the track.So what happens when their days and nights collide? When their lives take a drastic turn; for good or bad is yet to be decided.Will Peter be able to juggle the flirting, his new adoption parents and his double schedule, or will he fall apart before he can get it together?
Relationships: Peter Parker & Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	1. Night

**Night**

Being an assassin was not where he expected to be when they asked them back in grade school where they saw themselves in the future or even what they wanted to be. Truth be told, he hated the idea of killing people.

But he needed the cash. When aunt May was admitted to the hospital for the first time, they were broke. They’d been living with one of her friends among others because the rent was pretty cheap. Hospital bills on the other hand weren’t as cheap. He needed a way to pay for it all without depending on May’s half drunk friends and there weren’t all that many high paying jobs. By pure accident, he ended up stumbling upon a flyer with one of the highest paying jobs in the country. It may not have been the most legal of jobs, but considering the entire country knew of this particular career (this includes the police force mind you), they never really did anything about it. 

Most of the people who hired assassins were the rich, really important people who needed protection or needed to take out the person targeting. When he first started training for this, he discovered the reality of the world. He liked to call it the great divide. The lower and middle class were all pretty similar; they lived on one side of the town and in all honesty, if you took a look at the housing, the only difference you could actually spot was the extra bathroom or bedroom in the middle class homes. That’s not where the great divide could be found. It was between them and the upper class. The rich who could breathe out money and barely break a sweat. These are the people who could throw out a hundred dollars and barely dent their bank account.

As much as he wanted to hate them, and trust him when he says he really wishes he could, they were the same people who were paying him. He considered it easy money because the minute they wanted you and you tried to turn down the job, they would only raise the price until you agreed. It’s happened before. He’s just lucky aunt May was never fully able to comprehend that her hospital bills were being paid in full or he’d be a dead man. Sick or not, she had been one of the fiercest people he knew.

His hand curls tightly into a fist, so much so he wouldn’t be surprised if under the costume, his knuckles were turning white.

The idea still hurts him; doing one job after another still hurts because all it is is a reminder on how he wasn’t there for aunt May in her last hours. At the time, he’d been finishing off a job. These jobs took more than just a day to complete. It required finding the target, watching their every movement and following their day to day basis and when you’re confident enough, finish it off with your last move. Being told that aunt May passed on while he was finishing a job to get the cash for her hospital bills made him hate this job beyond the killing aspect of it. Now every time he took on a job, the thought of aunt May lingered more so than it used to. Before her passing, she lingered with a sense of what would he do if she ever found out. Now she lingered as a memory in every job he took, as if she were part of the job. Attached in a sense. 

He planned to quit when she passed on, but he wasn’t eighteen yet. If someone ever decided to choose him from the orphanage, he decided he wouldn’t let them pay for his college tuition or anything else; he wouldn’t be a burden to them. Thus, he chose to stay in this employment. 

A clatter down below pulls his attention away from his thoughts. In the small little town they were in, most of the lights were off. Homes had grown quiet and not a peep was heard aside from the people passing by, on their way home as well. Glancing over, he catches sight of the man he’s been waiting for. It’s been approximately a week since he first started following him. He’s walking out in the open today, but he knows it won’t last. Whoever this man was, he liked taking any shortcut he could find. Whether there was a crowd or not.

He walks with a limp; it’s not that he hurt himself, just the way he seemed to walk. Peter suspects he was born with it or something happened down the line and now he was stuck with it. He didn’t walk with a cane, though which Peter respected. He walked with an aura of confidence that spoke volumes. It radiated the smugness as well as the arrogance in the air around him. 

When he takes a turn into one of the alleyways, Peter makes his move. 

He walks along the buildings, ducking down one of the alleyways two buildings away from the one the man disappeared down. It’s dark, but he’s been out here so long that his eyes have already adjusted. It’s quiet, so much more than the town itself which always whirred with chatter and movement through the night. 

In the brief moment that they pass each other, Peter turns around and in the blink of an eye, the man’s body falls to the ground with a thump. He knows better than to linger near the body in the event that someone came by and found it while he was still around. He has learnt everything he needed to. He moves with purpose as not to look out of place if anyone saw him passing by. Keeps his shoulders back. He walks with the same confidence the man walked with. His hands shake as he moves up the way he came; his legs tremble as he walks, but he doesn’t allow himself to flinch.

As he makes his way up the hill, he glances back in the direction of the town. Looking over the buildings and it’s like he can see the alleyway where he killed the man. His stomach churns at the memory, an overwhelmingly sickening feeling pulls at his stomach. He hated killing people.

And yeah, he hated this job. 


	2. Day [Part 1]

**Day: Part 1**

The orphanage is this big house on the corner that has multiple rooms with groups of kids each stuffed into one. They separated them by age so Peter didn’t have to worry about little kids screaming in his ear or catching him if he snuck in and out of the place. Compared to the amount of little kids, there were few kids in his own age group, all believing nobody would come and get them because at the end of the day adults always went for younger kids. That’s probably the reason behind his surprise when they told him he was chosen. 

The day they were meant to meet, he was called into headquarters. When he got back, they had already left claiming it was okay and they could wait until the day they came by to pick him up. He apologised, but the head of the orphanage assured him it was okay; they still wanted him. Nothing changed. While he wanted to be happy, he wasn’t quite sure how to feel. A dull ache tingled through him whenever she said the words ‘want him’ and maybe it was because it didn’t feel real. Other than aunt May, nobody ever really wanted him so the words were unfamiliar to him. 

He’s packing his bag when there’s a knock at the door. For a moment, his body stills. Without looking, he knows it's the head of the orphanage, here to announce that his new parents are waiting downstairs and he’s scared. Alright, maybe not scared, but nervous. Beyond nervous. It felt like there was so much pressure riding on this. First impressions were everything; the last thing he wanted was messing it up.

“Peter?” She’s been calling him. Probably more than once, but he was so far in his head that he missed it. When he turns, she graces him with a smile. “Ready?”

_No_ , is what he wants to say. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready. Instead of saying any of this, he forces his lips up into a brief smile of his own. “Ready,” he affirms. 

He tugs his bag over his shoulder and makes his way over, following as she heads out of the room and down the stairs. It’s quiet for the middle of the day and no matter where he looked around, he couldn’t spot any of the other kids. He assumes they’re all out back. 

He thinks he has more time than just past the stairs, but he’s wrong. After rounding a corner and already halfway down the stairs, he sees the man at the bottom of the staircase and his heart is speeding up and his palms are sweaty and the nerves are skyrocketing. His hand shoots up, curling around the railing as he makes the rest of the way down. Gaze set on the floor, he sucks in a breath. 

He looks up and the guy is _tall_. However old he is, he’s pretty good looking. Broad shoulders and a blonde head of hair and smiling eyes. Peter wonders what his reason for adopting is; what the reason for taking on someone who is about to turn eighteen is. He wonders so much more, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, his gaze flickers around because he knows there was supposed to be two of them, so where was the other parent? 

They exchange greetings, but the conversation ends there. The orphanage head pulls him in for a hug, catching him by surprise. As he wraps an arm around her, she murmurs a soft goodbye. Wishes him all the best. Then, as fast and abrupt as it happened, the hug ends and the guy is waving as he makes his way to the front door and Peter has no choice but to follow. There’s this silence between them and it prods at him in a way that has him feeling a little uneasy. Usually he thinks he’s pretty good at conversations, but speaking to someone he’s never spoken to before in addition to the nerves, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to say something, but nothing was coming to mind. 

“I’m Steve, by the way,” the guy says and his voice is soft. He glances back and his eyes are bright as they smile at him. “Sorry for the short introduction. I’m a little nervous,” he chuckles.

“ _You’re_ nervous?” Peter queries in surprise. “What do you have to be nervous, sir?

He chuckles. “Steve Rogers,” he says again, adding on the second part of his name. He glances at Peter and winks. “In case you’re not all that comfortable calling me Steve to my face.” He stops walking when they get to a sleek black sports car that has Peter almost losing it. He’s never been in one before; only ever seen them around. As far as he was concerned, it was those of the upper class that owned them and even though he didn’t want a car like this, it was like watching a distant dream as Steve unlocks the car and slips into the driver seat. 

Peter’s sliding on his seatbelt when Steve speaks again, bringing him back to their conversation.

“I have everything to be nervous about,” he says with such a rawness to his voice that Peter almost thinks he’s going to cry. Their eyes meet and Steve is smiling again. “I’ve never done the parent thing, so I have no idea if I’ll be good at it. And there’s a lot riding on it. First impressions are these big moments that decide how things will go between the two parties. I didn’t want to screw it up.” 

“You’re doing pretty fine so far,” Peter reassures and he means it. The fact that Steve felt nervous calmed him down a bit. The nerves slowly started to settle. “Ma’am said there were two of you,” he comments when Steve doesn’t say anything. He glances over and catches Steve’s eye and there he goes smiling again. It’s different though. Compared to the other eye smiles. Without needing to ask, he knows that he’s thinking about his partner.

“Tony had a last minute meeting, but he’ll be home for dinner so you can meet him there.” One look over, and Steve’s smile shifts softly. “He’s excited to meet you.”

“Are you sure?”

His question seems to catch Steve off guard. His eyes shift between him and the road and his smile is no longer there. Peter has no idea whether he’s just asked something wrong, though he’s certain he didn’t. What could have been so wrong about what he asked? Knuckles whitening as a result of how tightly he’s clutching the wheel, he sucks in a breath and his shoulders slump, hands loosening their grip slightly.

And there’s that smile again.

“We’ve been waiting for you for _so_ long, Peter.” He knows it’s not literal; he meant in general as in Steve and Tony (whoever he was) have been waiting for a child for so long. Despite knowing this, he feels like it’s being said directly to him, as if they were waiting for Peter Parker, someone they didn’t know existed up until they saw his papers. “I could not be more sure.”

“Okay.”

“We’re both excited for this.” 

Peter leans back into the seat and his lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles. He supposes this won’t be as bad as he thought it would turn out. 


	3. Day [Part 2]

**Day: Part 2**

The house that Steve and his significant other lives in is huge. So huge, that Peter stopped right before the front doors and stared up at it. When he asked whether it was an apartment, Steve laughed. He understood as soon as the gates opened and they drove into a driveway too large than necessary. After what felt like five minutes, Steve guided him in and they took an _elevator_ up to the first floor. Suffice to say, Peter’s mind was being blown.

He’s been in the room deemed as his ever since. Unpacking took less time than Steve expected and the rest of the time he sat on the bed, looking around and trying to figure out what the hell he should be doing next. What was there to do next? 

A knock on the door pulls him away from his thoughts. He was just about to start mentally redecorating the room and see which he preferred (it was all he could think to do as he sat there, alright?) “Come in.”

The door opens and Steve pops his head in, a smile curving across his face. “All done unpacking?” he queries, eyes raking through the room. He’s oddly calm, down to the aura surrounding him. Like the sort of people you’d want in an emergency situation because they’d make all your unnecessary worrying and stress go away, like a source of comfort. 

“I am, yes, Mister Rogers.”

Steve looks a little surprised, but a chuckle cuts through, demolishing the surprise completely. “No need to be so formal, kid,” he eventually gets out between his laughter. Peter watches quietly, not sure how to respond. It wasn’t as easy as he made it out to be; Steve, while technically being his adoptive parent, was still a stranger. Meaning he couldn’t help _but_ be formal. “C’mon. I’m starting on supper. You can lend a hand if you’re done here.” 

“The place is big,” he comments as they head downstairs to the kitchen. It really was. It was like walking into a mansion; there were more rooms than he had been shown. Steve thought it only appropriate to show him the important rooms which were his room, Steve and his husband’s room, the kitchen and the spare bathroom (because sometimes the toilet handle in the bathroom joined to his room was funny or the shower head didn’t give off the right amount of water.) His eyes wander around as he follows after Steve, skipping a step to keep up because Steve walked fast.

“You can thank Tony for that,” Steve says, flashing him a bright smile before looking on ahead. “He insisted he wanted a big home so he could have a basement workspace.”

“What does Mister Tony do?”

“CEO of a company. Supplies the government with things. Does a lot but doesn’t speak much about it.”

“Should you be telling me all of this?” he queries, quirking a brow as he watches Steve walk into the kitchen as if he hadn’t just dropped something major. He wasn’t sure if the guy meant to tell him that second bit or whether that had been nothing more than a slip of the tongue. Judging by Steve’s face alone, however, he’s certain it’s not the latter.

“Why not? You’re part of the family now.” 

The words send a jolt through his body. He comes to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, watching Steve as he walks into the kitchen area. Sure it made sense for him to have said that; they quite literally adopted him. Yet somehow, he hadn’t expected to hear it be said so outright. So soon as well.

Steve is already at the counter when he looks up, his forehead creasing. “Are you coming or not?” 

“Oh, yes.” He hurries over into the kitchen, watching Steve in silence as he opens and closes cupboards, pulling out everything he needs. He wonders what Steve is planning to make, but rather than asking, he brings up their previous conversation. “And what do you do, Mister Rogers?” He watches him closely. Sees the way Steve’s shoulders square as the tension builds up. Did Steve not have a job? Or was he not meant to tell anyone, like Peter? Was it a mistake to ask that? 

All of this runs through his mind right as Steve opens his mouth, looking ready to say something when there’s a ding before the elevator doors open and a significantly tall man in a suit. He’s around the same height as Steve. It’s barely been a minute before he’s already talking.

“Seriously Stevie, can I just cancel all of my meetings and have you hold me? I’d prefer it to those monsters of the press,” he grumbles in a tone that holds so much certainty. One look at him and Peter paled. The guy seemed so sure of himself that it was just a tad intimidating.

He stops before the kitchen, hand around the knot of his tie and eyes glued to the two before him. He’s got this goatee and a roundish face though Peter can make out the jawline. He imagines when the guy was younger, he was good looking (not that he wasn’t now. For his age, he’s definitely got looks.) He’s got this pair of sunglasses on, despite being inside, but his other hand reaches up to take it off. 

“Peter, this is my husband, Tony Stark. Tony, this is Peter Parker.”

Neither of them move, but Peter’s eyes practically bulge out. Sure he recognized the guy, but for all he knew it was a lookalike. Or some kind of dream he wasn’t waking up from. The moment Steve confirms it in his introduction, he almost loses it. An incoherent string of words escape him as he gestures with a hand and looks between Steve and Tony.

“Your husband is Mister Stark?” His hands nestle into his hair before coming down forward, stopping midair in front of him. “My adoptive dad is Mister Stark? _Thee Tony_ Stark? This is… This is crazy!”

“I take it you know him,” Steve comments, a bemused smile across his face as he watches Peter’s inner fanboy lift itself to the surface. 

“ _Know_ him? I’m a—” He stops himself midway, turning to Tony again. He has a hand on his chest, the other extended toward him as he closes the distance between them. “I’m a huge fan. Really. You’re my role model.”

Mentally, he begins to panic. When Tony doesn’t say anything or take his hand, he wonders if he shouldn’t have said anything. An apology rests on the tip of his tongue right as Tony grabs a hold of his hand. Rather than shaking it, Peter is pulled into his chest. He releases his hand, arms wrapping around him in a hug. Hesitantly, Peter lifts his arms up to return the hug. He hears Tony sigh, his mouth right by his ear as he whispers something that has him almost tearing up. 

“Welcome home, son.” 


End file.
